


Back Around it Goes

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Electricity, Electrocution, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Violence, Voice Kink, Vomiting, nasty stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chp1: Tarn's games blur lines in Pharma's mind, he forgets that there are limits and Megatron is one of them.<br/>Chp2: Pharma brings his problems with Tarn home with him and Ambulon become the recipient of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very speedily written...

The chilling resonance of Tarn’s voice touched deep. Pharma’s mouth felt as if it was filling with salty iron as his core was beguiled by Tarn’s power. 

“Want something?” Tarn’s weight shifted, enough to give Pharma some space. Air rolled quickly from his vents in a relieving sort of way, Pharma grappled onto his stomach, his wings obstructing the fluidity of movement. They bent awkwardly against the floor… and Tarn. 

Pharma wheezed, inside his spark was shrinking and shivering. So confused.

“N-No, let me go!” 

“ _Are you_ ** _sure?_** ” So deep and rich like dark treacle, Tarn was intimately aware of his effect. Pharma whined, fruitlessly resisting cruel temptation as it gathered as an abundant energy between his thighs. 

With his belly pressed to the floor Pharma crawled free of Tarn’s shadow, crippled by the convulsive energy saturating his circuits.

“ ** _Pharma?_** _”_ Bloodless lust warmed Pharma’s spark, the heat so unbearable the innermost energon lining his core chamber began to congeal and Pharma wretched curses at Tarn, bitter and hateful, but so madly consumed by arousal it conflicted with all of his self-esteem. 

“P-Please, please,” His trembling breath misted the cool floor on which he rested his weary helm, hands clawing at the heat baking his core. 

On a whim Tarn stretched out, lazy and curious in his desire, the back of his wilful consort was seldom explored. He touched, and watched Pharma’s shock turn his body rigid, too confused to know for sure, if he should be bowing into or away from Tarn’s intrepid, heavy, exploration.

“ ** _Hmmm_**.”

“Ohhh.” Pharma sobbed against cool, wet tiles. 

“Poor thing, why do you resist? Am I not pleasing to your aesthetic?” As if Tarn cared, “Or have I not done enough to make you **_needy._** ” 

Wanton, shameless desire exploded in Pharma, stretching his control to such extremes it frightened him. Tarn rumbled with amusement, the jet hopped, knees tucked under his middle, boiling interface settled on his heels, shifting in an instinctual, animalistic need for friction.

Utterly delicious.

Tarn wetted his lips.

“I can **_smell_ ** you, dear Doctor.”

One hand shot defensively lower, cupping his interface and it felt _obscenely good_ even if it shouldn’t.

“Oh no, that won’t help you.” 

Pharma _keened_ \- now that his regard for sanity had abandoned him, he’d readily become a horribly, lusty, craven mess if it meant easing his hunger for a mean overload.

“Ohhhh, you’re a sick mech Tarn!” 

Pharma was captured violently, strong hands tugging at his waist, drawing him into the lap of the giant. Pharma’s legs stretched over Tarn’s thighs, aching in the joints, his back absorbed the shock of Tarn’s impact. 

“Sick, sick, **_sick!”_** Tarn promised.

**“** _Nn-uhhh!”_

“But what are you going to do about it?”

Tarn forced his hips sharply, and trapped his hand between Pharma’s squirming, sweaty groin.

“Frag you!” But rebellion didn’t save face when Pharma’s body worked against him, and against Tarn - squirming, grinding, spreading pressure all over his misshapen interface.  

Tarn shunted them forward, pinning Pharma to the floor _again_ , though this time he was not unwilling and meekly assumed a position at which Tarn was expected to rut. Pharma readily welcomed it. Thoughts of honour and loyalty buried by the weight of tainted affection. 

“Stick it in me! I - I,” Pharma’s demands became something guttural as the endless spiral of his spark dilated and his control over his body elapsed, oral fluid brimming over his lips and the well of lubricant sealed behind his interface hit the floor with a gut-twisting splat. Tarn’s exercise of mastery so subtle Pharma couldn’t decide what was done by his volition or Tarn’s sadistic puppeteering of the senses. 

While Pharma still simpered over inane debate, Tarn jammed himself in deep. Satisfaction gratifying him as much as a binge of shape-changing. Pharma’s valve sagged from use, they never left enough time between encounters for him to tighten up. The weak palpitations of the channel round Tarn’s girth were pathetic, but it cheered him endlessly that Pharma was so spent and used no one but him could glean the doctor the slightest joy of friction. 

“Frag me, frag me y-you filth, you _Decepticon scum_!” Pharma rasped like breathless shareware. Thin fingers scratching the floor, still subconsciously afraid of scuffing his paint even when Decepticon scum made his insides filthy. Tarn found that ironically amusing. The wetness soiling his interface all came from Pharma and Tarn began nosing his tip at the back of Pharma’s valve, determined to spread the mess and see Pharma’s pristine white paint marked.   

Pharma started howling. Shamelessly loud when aroused, uncaring of who heard and ruthlessly demanding, 

“Frag me harder, frag, frag, uh”-

Growling, Tarn obliged, only because it suited him. 

Drunk, Pharma let himself be manhandled, as soon as his back settled on the floor he flung his legs high, his knees hooking over Tarn’s shoulders and he was bent in half.

“ _OWw-ahh!”_ Tarn’s spike prodded him somewhere very deep. A hot, dull pain filled his abdomen and Pharma still begged a litany of obscene pleas to be fucked as if he didn’t know how to stop. Moans turned to grunts. Pharma squeezed both thighs, fingers slipping through a drizzling of lubricant, his face tightened, the dizzying obscurity of a heady charge blotting out the discomfort of having his aft rammed up and down the floor. 

“So wet.” Tarn was fascinated by it and endlessly allured. The vulgarity of the observation ignited Pharma’s promiscuity. Tarn felt the soggy valve flutter against him, Pharma’s petty want to exhibit himself as symbolic erotism - he had no idea that Tarn had long ago dispensed with his vocal talents and that his need to be a pleasing fuck was generated entirely by his own initiative.

Tarn had succeeded in making Pharma lose control…

“Keep fragging me!”

…and so became his own undoing. 

Tarn overloaded. He thrust hard and held Pharma on his spike, stiff. Hot, sticky, wonderful transfluid ballooned Pharma’s insides, plugged in tight, the dilation of his valve made Pharma feel sore and over stimulated and if he wasn’t so damn turned on by being stuffed he might have complained. 

Slowly it began eking out. Pharma whined and clung to Tarn, embracing the larger mech’s shoulders as he was stuck by an impulse to bring mech’s huge hulking weight crashing down on top of him and be smothered beneath it. 

“Tarn,” Phama whimpered, nibbling at the pockmarks and indents of Tarn’s mask, hungering for something to latch onto. The closeness of his own overload making his expectations silly, “More, Tarn.” 

But Tarn was done. 

“No.” He selfishly withdrew.

Pharma was certain he didn’t mean it. Couldn’t mean it…

“Tarn,” He leaned up again, neck stretched. Tarn jerked away. He brought both hands to Pharma’s shoulders and forced him back to the ground. Staring at the body twisting under him, desirable and willing, but where was the challenge in that? 

Pharma felt the loss of heat from inside him, sliding out, his valve deformed as the pressure bloating his insides escaped. He was feverish, the fluids he was left lying in were cold.  

“ _Tarn?!_ ” Angry whining ensued as Tarn reared back, working the stiffness from his joints, “D-Don’t! Don’t you _dare_ leave me like this!”

“I don’t know what you think you’re entitled to Autobot”-

“Pretend I’m Megatron then you useless lug and I’ll fi”-

It was a dumb decision made by an unfit, lustful mind. Pharma was struck, once, hard in the stomach, the remainder of his foolishness escaping him in a wheeze of pain. 

He coughed and rolled, seizing up in a ball before, once again, trying to crawl away, leaving behind gross and sticky trail. 

“ _You_ are not _him_. You are nothing! Not worthy of comparison. Weak, cheap, harlot!” 

The nerve Pharma struck was very sensitive. Tarn did not suffer insult. Pharma must have gotten too comfortable or else he would’ve known better. Too much fragging makes weak minds fond. Pharma needed to be reminded of his place… and it was outside. 

Tarn scooped him up, carried him like scrap to the disposal sight and dropped him slurry of snow and slag boiled down to sludge. 

Pharma landed, the pain of an unalleviated charge driving him close to hyperventilation. He gazed up at Tarn, hurtfully aware of his mistake and suffering humility and disgrace in frosty quagmire brimming round his kneecaps. 

“I thought… I _thought_ ,” 

“You thought **_wrong._** ” 

Pharma’s spark squeezed again, scratching at the casing did nothing to alleviate the sickness. His legs quaked, the pounding charge kept his core warm even as windchill snapped at him. Pharma looked down, his interface panel was still unlatched, the components achingly numb. He hiccuped, so, so, so embarrassed. 

“Take yourself back to Delphi, get working on that quota and next time, Doctor,” Tarn pushed his colossal foot right between Pharma’s legs, “Don’t be so cocky.”   

 

 


	2. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharma brings his problems with Tarn home with him and Ambulon become the recipient of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nasty stuff ahead, 
> 
> Vomit  
> Face-fucking...I guess.  
> Electric Shocks  
> Abuse
> 
> This was meant to be a direct lead on from the first chapter but it went a bit wayward. Soz.

It was by chance that Ambulon happened to be in the monitoring station the night Pharma returned from his escapade. The Ward Manager saw his commanding officer approach - a steady red blob of colour on the vast radar screen. It wasn’t normally Ambulon’s place to be in the operations room, as a matter of fact he was outright barred from entering because of prejudice against his lineage. But the mech assigned to the control room had been hospitalised after contracting Red Rust. It was an illness that had been spreading through Delphi and due to its contagious nature their crew had been spread thin. Ambulon felt obligated to assume the night watch even if it did mean missing a sleep cycle and putting himself at risk. 

Pharma docked, his life signal deactivated once he was in the sanctuary of the facility. 

Despite his ranking position, Ambulon was still accountable to Pharma and nervously sought out his boss to explain himself. He didn’t find Pharma’s late night return to be suspicious, he should’ve, but Ambulon wasn’t meant to justify others’ actions, only his own. In these settings that were still foreign to him, Amublon was easily intimidated. Any interest that portrayed him as anything but wholly servile threatened to destabilise him. More than anything he just wanted to stay, he didn’t want any fuss, he was sick of constantly having to justify himself and looking to prove he was long beyond his attachment to the Decepticon cause. 

It just so happened, that his search for Pharma led him to the wash racks and there he would uncover the contemptible opportunity he was starved for. 

“Pharma?” 

A haze of solvent vapour clouded round one of the stalls nearer the far wall. The hissing water jet was twisted off and Ambulon was made to wait a moment before Pharma swung into view.

“Oh.” 

Ambulon was quite speechless. The kind of jaw-hanging, brain-boggled, speechless. 

He’d seen interfaces before, he was doctor for Primus’ sake! He’d seen interfaces elsewhere _too_ , of course, he’d seen lots. Maybe not lots, but enough. Enough that he shouldn’t be quite so embarrassed. 

Maybe his stupor was induced because he’d never expected to see Pharma’s interface - or any jet’s, but _especially_ Pharma’s. 

It was just… _there_. Shiny, dripping, like the rest of his frame, with solvent and other things. Pharma leaned against the wall and crooned, so meek and appetising. 

When Pharma palmed his long spike and hissed at his ward to join him, how could Ambulon possibly refuse? 

 

When Ambulon eventually did start finding Pharma’s late night travels suspicious he didn’t question it. Why would he? When it always meant the jet returned in a ravenous state… ravenous for him. 

Ambulon’s paint had never looked worse. He didn’t mind that.

He didn't mind being woken up at odd hours, or summoned in the middle of the day if he meant that he was wanted. Pharma had clearly seen something he liked, each time Ambulon got onto his knees there was a twinkle in Pharma’s eyes. It was sadly mistaken for affection. 

Outside of their coupling Pharma would make a point of avoiding Ambulon. If they should collide with each other in the presence of others Pharma was deliberately strict with him. Ambulon guessed he didn’t want to show favouritism, First Aid was renowned for being the jealous sort, making sniping remarks if he felt belittled. 

Ambulon was for more amicable and easily dominated. 

He learned quickly and he welcomed it. He let Pharma do whatever he wanted if it meant he could keep clinging to the favour of Delphi’s most esteemed. 

This time he was beckoned to patient’s room during his lunch break. Ambulon walked with a wobble in his step and was still wiping smudges of his hurried rations off his lips when he met Pharma skulking in a corner beside the berth of a slumbering giant. He didn't acknowledge Ambulon as he slipped through the door. The room was vast and cold and darkish, there were other berths but they were empty. Ambulon was lulled by the steady tone of systems devoted to keeping Fort Max alive. They made him sleepy. 

Pharma had disappeared again last night. Ambulon waited up, casually, but Pharma never showed. They were slowly losing their routine and it made Ambulon want to try extra hard this time. 

He was on his belly before Pharma even asked. Cowering in the way Pharma liked…

“ _What_ are you doing?” Pharma hissed pacing away from Fortress Maximus, he used his foot to nudge Ambulon on the backside. 

Ambulon didn't know how to answer but tried anyway.

“What’re you waiting for?” It wasn't standard practice for them to talk at all but at the very least small talk was saved until the very end of their encounter, after Pharma had taken his pleasure. 

Huffing, Pharma retracted his contact. Ambulon peered up.

“Don’t you know how ridiculous you look?” 

It stung a little, less than the first time Pharma had insulted him. 

“What makes you think I called you here for that?” Pharma barked and grabbed Ambulon by the arm, lugging him awkwardly to his feet. He kept squeezing, making the pivot of Ambulon’s arm hurt. “Hmm?”

“The fact that you called me.” Ambulon’s voice was dry, wincing. Pharma let him go and Ambulon breathed relief at his freedom. But he was snatched again, grappled to an empty berth adjacent to their comatose patient only barely resisting. 

Ambulon’s aft hit the berth, he was shoved further and further until he was arching backward with Pharma following him down.

“Was I wrong?”

Pharma loomed over him, dark and aloof, one hand gripped Ambulon’s hip, the other smoothly transversed his blocky frame.

“Hmm,” Pharma leaned in close, lips curled and threatened seduction.  “Don’t be so cocky.” 

He forced dry fingers into Ambulon’s mouth, parting lips and denta. Ambulon spluttered; shocked. Spittle gathered under his tongue as Pharma invaded and pressed down on his palette. He wasn’t unused to Pharma’s quirks and he didn’t object. Ambulon closed his lips, suckling and, let gravity combined with Pharma’s weight flatten him against the berth. Once he was settled, Ambulon opened his legs. 

Pharma’s knee slipped between them at once, sharp angles dug into Ambulon’s groin on purpose. 

“Doesn’t it bother you that we’re not alone?” Pharma glanced back at Fortress Maximus, expecting Ambulon to look too. “Or is this the sort of perversion you Decepticons get off on?” 

Ambulon huffed, his denta snapped at the end of Pharma’s fingers.

“Ow!” Pharma snatched back, “Don’t do that.” 

Ambulon inhaled deeply, wiping spit from the corners of his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter to me. He’s as good as dead”- Ambulon was interrupted by four fingers. They pressed in far, enough to cause alarm. His optics blazed and he feared how deep Pharma would try and push. 

Pharma chortled and split his fingers wide in Ambulon mouth, watching his lips stretch.

“That doesn't sound anything like a Duty Of Care. What if someone said the same about you?”

Ambulon couldn't answer, his mouth was full. Pharma didn't really care anyway, he wasn't really interested in talking, there was a reason he’d called Ambulon here and it was more than just a frag.

Oral lubricant welled at the corners of Ambulon’s mouth, he was aching now, lips moving in a rhythm and his optics rolled back online when he felt something new pressing at his lips. At first he assumed it was Pharma’s other hand, but it was something thick and flat, something to bite down on and it tasted strongly of rubber.

“Don’t fuss.” Pharma leaned forward and cooed at Ambulon’s concerned face, tapping his cheek while he smeared off the excessive oral lubricant on Ambulon’s thigh. 

Apprehension released chemicals Pharma could sense into Ambulon’s EM Field. He inhaled them, they had a very particular organic feel against his plating and it made Pharma shudder. He picked up Ambulon’s legs, one by one, and arranged him on the berth giving him a careful rub on the interface to assure his ward that everything was as it should be. Ambulon let himself sit in the cup of Pharma’s gentle hand, allowed to relish it for a moment before the hand was taken away again. 

It would be back, Ambulon knew. He tried to spread his legs wider but was stopped. 

Belts appeared from under the berth, the kind they used to restrain patients. Ambulon was straining to keep his head lifted off the berth as Pharma stared directly at him and smiled so kindly. 

The first restraint was strapped round Ambulon’s leg and buckled firmly. Pharma moved clockwise round the berth and once he’d finished securing Ambulon’s last limb, gave Ambulon another assuring pet. 

That was it.

Pharma stepped away.

Ambulon’s spark turned faster. He looked around the room. He could still see Fortress Maximus. If he looked up he could see a life support system humming above him, it was steadily beginning to power up. Pharma’s shadow was to the right of that. 

“Lie still.” 

Ambulon sagged against the berth, tense with anticipation.

Pharma paraded back to the end of the berth, a stream of cables, red and black, clattered behind him, holding what looked to be a bouquet jumper cables in one hand. Ambulon's protests were shrill but indistinct. The block of stiff rubber wedged in his mouth converted everything he was feeling to noise. He could stop the stiff prong of the first cable being squeezed ungently into a data port in his leg. 

Pharma plugged another seven into him, forgoing the lonely aperture behind Ambulon’s neck. He didn’t want to damage his subordinate too much when he cranked up the machine and administered the first jolt.

Ambulon bounced on the berth. Electricity kicked into his systems, flooding his vision with the violence of static for a second, then it stopped. 

Ambulon gasped so hard he nearly swallowed the gag. When he tried to sit up Pharma shocked him again and Ambulon was flung back to the berth. Limbs seizing and kicking erratically. A smell of burning filled the room.

This time the energy influx didn’t end so quickly. It stimulated every circuit and crackled in every joint. Ambulon couldn’t respire enough air to keep his systems from over cooking. Each time Pharma flipped the switch he left the current to bolt through Ambulon for longer. Pumping him full of energy he couldn’t discharge. Ambulon squirmed, the restraints dragging on his limbs. Each burst of electricity squeezing his systems tighter. They whined and stalled, rebooted and Ambulon was met by blistering agony. He was charged like a battery and ready to pop.

After the seventh stroke the switch was flipped off and, mercifully, stayed off.

Ambulon crashed against the berth, shaking all over - his spark bloated and aching where it swung heavily in his chest. Relays and fuses had popped and melted inside him, their residue leaving him as smoke through his vents. Pharma made the observations, he appeared over Ambulon’s dreary helm, hanging like a spectre in a bad dream. His fore-finger reshaped itself into a torch, the light he shone into Ambulon’s tired, overtaxed eyes burned. 

“ _Phhhhha_ ”- Distortion ruined Ambulon’s voice. Pharma had peeled the gag out of his dry lips, uncorking an accumulation of smoke pressurised inside that swirled out. His tongue felt fat and useless and he too weak to close his jaw. 

The energy clung to his systems, dry and bitter, unlike any charge he'd ever sustained from arousal. He wasn’t thinking about interfacing when he was being drowned in a frightening static haze, he wasn’t thinking of anything at all.

Pharma disappeared again and Ambulon whined pathetically each time electrical pressure cracked another fuse, his body jerking involuntarily.

“You know, sound can have a funny effect on one’s body.” Pharma’s voice seemed to be coming from beyond Ambulon’s consciousness. He was tinkering with another machine, fine tuning settings and when he was satisfied, rolled it over to Ambulon’s berth side. 

A weight fell heavily onto Ambulon’s middle, shifting minutely, making him feel even less comfortable. Pharma was sitting on him. 

“I’m going to make you feel wonderful, Ambulon.” Pharma stoked rapidly over Ambulon’s face. He was literally baking in his own metal now, half delirious, “I just needed to _fine tune_ you first.”

Ambulon didn't know what that meant. He’d offlined his optics and was doing his best to reassure himself that his doctor wasn't going to let him die.   

Then something started to happen… his body seemed to be vibrating and-

“Oh,” His face scrunched up tight, not entirely sure of what he was feeling.

Pharma leaned back, weight resting heavily on Ambulon’s crotch.

“Do you feel that?” He reached for the machine he’d wheeled over and twisted a dial incrementally, “Those are sound waves. They’re going to make you _very_ happy.” 

Anbulon couldn't tell, he was still burning up inside and now his charge was taking on a new form. He started to wriggle under Pharma, scratching the itch between his legs. Pharma laughed gleefully moving with Ambulon’s restless hips. 

Growing more adventurous Pharma twisted the dial on his sound system with confidence. The bass tone hit Ambulon like a kick drum to his spark, it knocked the stale air out of him. Pharma’s fingers traced the shivery paths of electric charge snaking down Ambulon’s sides, torturing him with the most tantalising feelings. As if all of Ambulon’s bodily concerns were abandoning him in the pursuit of sweet arousal he felt sanity moving beyond his present capacity to care.

He could taste it, gratification was numbing his tongue, Pharma kept playing with his system settings and Ambulon was powerless, living for the thrill of being manipulated without a touch. 

Pharma wasn’t fairing well with restraint. His control giving him the heady rush he needed to get off. 

The sound was pumped higher, Ambulon keened intensely as gravity seemed to centralise round his core, waves of arousal pulling and pushing, tuned uniquely to him. And why should he have all the fun?

This was Pharma’s experiment after all, he deserved some physical enjoyment out of it, seeing Ambulon melt in bliss under him wasn’t enough. 

Ambulon yelped when Pharma ground against his metal, the friction scraped away more layers of paint. There wasn’t much precision in Pharma’s movement. He’d snapped back his panel, found a point where the pressure of rubbing himself all over Ambulon’s boxy shape felt delectable and worked away, rutting on Ambulon’s hips until the other mech’s spike appeared. 

Pharma glanced up, Ambulon was lolling, senseless on the berth as if he’d been drugged. Pharma wanted more than this lifeless doll, he reached for the controls again and gave Ambulon a little lift. His hips jerked up, clanging against Pharma’s, his spike thick and tender.

One hand pinned Ambulon’s hips steady as the other fiddled around and found Ambulon’s sticky valve. 

A small whine of uncertainty worried Ambulon’s lips - they weren’t the lips Pharma was interested with anymore so he took his sticky fingers from Ambulon’s valve and used them to adjust the wave lengths. The sounds Ambulon made turned to sobs of pleasure. Pharma was so pleased to find Ambulon’s valve absolutely soaking when he returned to it and twisted three fingers inside.

Ambulon hiccuped, knees snapping up. _Too much, too much, too much!_ Head was spinning and the caresses drove him wild, his valve dragged inward with a slurp, relaxing and pulling round Pharma’s fingers. With no care he thrust his hips, finding a nook to settle his spike in and getting it all wet.

“How do you feel?” Pharma’s purred, applying ample weight, he watched Ambulon thrash and admired the beads of moisture dribbling off his frame. 

“Strange.” Ambulon managed to gasp, static crowding his tone and he could no longer online his optics. The pressure of his charge growing, pooling in all his sensitive parts: hot, hot! Ambulon though he might be leaking. Thinking about it made his valve throb, “ _Ohhhh._ ” 

Pharma twisted his fingers, four of them spreading Ambulon now, his smallest digit squashed into the valve mesh and Ambulon felt every sharp joint. He was packed so tightly not even the copiousness of lubricant could ease the passage of movement, Pharma began stabbing his fingers into Ambulon’s tense body, dragging the engorged entrance of the valve forward and back until the biolights on the outside were pulsing fast.

Ambulon cried his name. The plea ending in a wail. The density of the sound waves amplified again and Ambulon began throwing his hips into Pharma’s hands, begging to be fragged.

Unable to contain his excitement, Pharma extended his spike and jerked it with both hands to the chorus of guttural need sung by the tormented body under him.

Aided by Ambulon’s erratic undulation Pharma shimmied up Ambulon’s body, propped with his knees snug on either side of Ambulon’s head he gave the desperate mech something to suck on. In his need and lust and desperation, Ambulon seemed intent of gagging himself as he struggled to swallow Pharma’s length whole. Each time his nose poked Pharma's slim middle the excitement tickled.

The novelty lasted a while but soon Pharma was reaching behind him, guiding his fingers to his own interface. They slid inside with pleasant ease. He already been tinkered with today and it had left his flushed internal nodes sensitive to touch. Pharma groaned softly, drowned out by wet gurgling and the chaotic huff of strained ventilation. Ambulon was still bucking his hips, every metal slate of his spike flared with a bundle of static itching under the lustrous planes.

“Uhg,” Pharma’s body shook with ardent feeling. He slumped forward, burrowing his spike far down Ambulon’s gullet, so deep that its shape was plain to see bulging on Ambulon’s neck. 

Ambulon squealed and struggled hard, throat making delicious ,involuntary spasms that milked Pharma of his overload.

The jet pushed his fingers deep inside himself, pressing them hard against his internal mesh and felt his valve constrict as bliss washed out of him along with the last few tastes of transfluid neatly dripping into Ambulon’s tortured intake.

Just when he was peaking, Pharma’s spark synced with the power of the sound waves, it grabbed him, like a shunt of energy pushing him higher toward something spectacular.

He howled, thick, pearly discharged splattered his palm and he sang.

“uhhhh~”

_Yes! Yes! More!_ He got erratic in desperation to draw out climax and see himself ultimately satisfied. Hips bumping roughly on Ambulon's chin and discharge sliding down his thighs.

_Oh dear…_   it took a while for his vision to return, the focus still hazy with a peppering of static. Pharma swallowed, wiped his mouth and gradually leaned back. The stiffness in his joints made them painful to unlock, he fell back, his aft dropping hard onto Ambulon’s midriff and his spike slipping rapidly free of his distorted throat, flicking fluids. 

Pharma was relaxing when he heard Ambulon make a terrible sound. 

The rush of transfluid came first, bubbling out of Ambulon’s nose, his cheeks bulged but he couldn’t contain it and fountained milky liquid out his lips along with an unprocessed meal. Ambulon gagged and heaved, his face and throat streaked in runnels of pearly colour. Pharma stared, captivated by the mech burning out in front of him until Ambulon croaked for help. 

Pharma’s aid didn’t come in a rush. 

The machine was deactivated first with an irritable swat to the ignition. Ambulon’s arms were unbuckled, his legs were left for his own business, and Pharma eased him onto his side. Ambulon quaked, the violent charge tormenting his spark ignored as he fought to remain online. Fear grew as an instinctive constant in his processor.  

Pharma’s hand was at his back, however he intended it to feel didn’t matter, Ambulon found it soothing as he quivered on the berth, insensate except for the unimaginable sting behind his optics and scratched into his nose and mouth. He tried to speak again and failed. Gasping heavily, his grasp on reality fractured.  

The steady tones of the support systems keeping Fortress Maximus’s brain activity alive helped Ambulon anchor himself in the present. He was tired and distraught, he knew he should be focusing mending himself but he was consciously aware of how impatient Pharma would be getting by now. He tried to apologise but it sounded like nonsense. Next he thought about moving but it was too difficult; his limbs were lead, pinning him to the slab, shifting only made him remember how wet he’d gotten between his legs, it was cold now, and sticky. Ambulon was self conscious of that and of his spike, which was still full and curved to the swell of his abdomen. He felt Pharma’s hand start to wander and after some flirting with his seams, when Pharma curled his fingers loosely  round Ambulon’s swollen girth it didn’t surprise him at all. He was weak and used up, amazed that, after the debacle, the jet was still interested in handling him. 

With so much at stake that Ambulon didn’t want to lose, how could he possibly refuse a mech like Pharma? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought I was going to enjoy something twisted. Turns out I actually hated it, but I felt committed and wanted to finished what I'd started to see if there was any hope. There wasn't. I tried to finish it as fast as physically possible so I'm sorry if it's a bit lacking. 
> 
> And when I say lacking I mean, missing quality, as usual the word count is massive and I have no idea how to cut it down ever - I think that's just my style :p


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